So, it’s Sunday and I’ve got nothing. It’s time to post weakly and I can’t even muster scurrilous doggerel for your amusement. Then in a serendipitous moment, our dear Carmen and a new reader, Marliesvonn popped in to comment on the title of the blog; “My Door is Ajar”. Well shit fire and save matches as they say in catachresis class. I can recount the completely boring story of how I first heard the expression. Those of you who are endlessly fascinated by minutia will really dig this, the rest will save it for bedtime reading to stave off insomnia.
was a hot mess. Edward Dickinson suffered a stroke and died. When the simple funeral was held in the Homestead’s entrance hall, Emily stayed in her room with the door cracked open. Emily was freaked out about people she cared about dying and it put her in a state of permanent isolation toward the end of her life. Basically, her door was ajar….
She wrote her poetry any old kinda way. She wrote about love in a “take it out deeper” “Don’t. Stop.” melancholy. Turns out, some of it was brilliant.
“I Cannot Live With You” is one of those poems. It held a mirror up to the vulnerabilities of her life.
I cannot live with You – It would be Life – And Life is over there – Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to – Putting up Our Life – His Porcelain – Like a Cup – Discarded of the Housewife – Quaint – or Broke – A newer Sevres pleases – Old Ones crack – I could not die – with You – For One must wait To shut the Other’s Gaze down – You – could not – And I – could I stand by And see You – freeze – Without my Right of Frost – Death’s privilege? Nor could I rise – with You – Because Your Face Would put out Jesus’ – That New Grace Glow plain – and foreign On my homesick Eye – Except that You than He Shone closer by – They’d judge Us – How – For You – served Heaven – You know, Or sought to – I could not – Because You saturated Sight – And I had no more Eyes For sordid excellence As Paradise And were You lost, I would be – Though My Name Rang loudest On the Heavenly fame – And were You – saved – And I – condemned to be Where You were not – That self – were Hell to Me – So We must meet apart – You there – I – here – With just the Door ajar That Oceans are – and Prayer – And that White Sustenance – Despair –